


In My Veins

by bepreparedf0rhell



Category: Motionless in White (Band)
Genre: Blood, Other, Vampires, a tiny bit of manipulation/gaslighting, a tiny bit of violence, lots of fear, nothing too graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-11
Updated: 2020-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:22:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23098525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bepreparedf0rhell/pseuds/bepreparedf0rhell
Summary: In which Ricky's in a whole lot of trouble.
Relationships: implied Chris "Motionless" Cerulli/Ricky "Horror" Olson, sort of implied Chris "Motionless" Cerulli/Justin Morrow
Comments: 9
Kudos: 18
Collections: Love Is Stored In The Knot





	In My Veins

**Author's Note:**

> Tbh I have absolutely no clue where this story even came from. I sat down to write something else and this just kind of..... happened. I think I really like it though!

Ricky’s eyes open slowly, almost like there’s something holding them shut. He feels like he’s been asleep for about a year, but at the same time is pretty sure he fell asleep moments before. He feels slow, groggy, confused. His head is fuzzy, weird, and he’s so out of it that it takes him a few full moments to realize he’s got absolutely no clue where he is. 

“What the fuck?” he mumbles, thrashing his slender wrists against the restraints he’s just realized are holding them down. A little more movement alerts him to similar bonds on his ankles, and panic washes over him as he realizes the gravity of the situation.

He’s… he’s shackled to a bed in a room he doesn’t recognize, and he’s also pretty sure he’s blacked out a pretty significant portion of time. He doesn’t remember anything. There’s not a single clue in his head that could lend itself to an explanation. He closes his eyes, concentrates as hard as he can, and still nothing. The last thing he remembers is playing a show, a totally normal show. He’d packed up his gear afterwards, had a drink in a green room with Vin and Ryan. It had been a totally normal night. 

Panic rises even heavier in his chest when he snaps his eyes open and tries to get a good look around the room. It’s dark; the only light is coming from a sliver of moonlight flooding in a window. There doesn’t seem to be much in the room other than the bed he’s lying in; there’s a dresser and a wardrobe, neither of which lend themselves as clues. 

“Oh… fuck,” he mumbles a moment later when he makes another realization. There’s a thin sheet draped over his small frame, but underneath it he’s pretty sure he’s stark naked. Somehow he’d missed that bit in the urgency of the rest of the situation, but sure enough when he wriggles around enough that his body rubs on the bed underneath him, there’s not a damn thing between his skin and the mattress. 

“Help!” His scream is frantic, his voice torn and raspy in a way that he doesn’t even fully recognize as himself. He’s never felt such fear in his entire life; his vision’s blurring in front of him and he’s lightheaded, his breath coming in short gasps. 

“Rick?” a familiar voice calls from nearby, and Ricky realizes that in the darkness what had looked like a wall on one side of the bed is actually a thick curtain seemingly separating the room in half. “Ricky?!”

Justin’s voice is a raw mirror of Ricky’s, the same frantic tone to it, and tears fill Ricky’s eyes at the familiar sound. He’s still fucking terrified, of course he is, but something about knowing Justin’s right beside him somewhere is an instant comfort. 

“Justin?” Ricky calls tearfully, and he hears Justin sigh heavily. 

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” Justin’s voice asks, and Ricky shakes his head. 

“I think… I think I’m fine. Are you okay?”

“I’m okay. Please tell me there’s some chance you’re not naked and attached to a bed and this is a joke you’re playing and you’re about to come over here and unchain me so I can kick your ass?” Justin asks, and Ricky lets out a small sob.

“I have no idea what the fuck is going on,” Ricky says, and Justin sighs again.

“I was afraid of that.”

“Do you remember anything?” Ricky asks, pretty sure he knows the answer. 

Before Justin can answer, though, there’s a noise from the opposite direction Justin’s voice had been coming from. Ricky’s head snaps to the sound and he realizes the knob on a door across the room is jiggling. He can hear keys jingling, hears it as the lock clicks open. The door opens and as if Ricky wasn’t absolutely fucking baffled enough by the situation at hand, Chris walks through the door looking as casual as Ricky’s ever seen him. 

“Chris, what?” Ricky demands, the few simple words all he’s able to force out of his mouth. Justin’s saying something beside him - yelling something, in fact, but Ricky can’t focus on it. All he can focus on is Chris… more specifically, Chris’ eyes. They’re not… Chris’ eyes. They’re not the soft amber brown Ricky knows them to be. No, instead they’re a bright blood red, almost glowing in the low light of the room. Terror surges through Ricky again as he watches Chris watch him. 

On top of everything else, as confused and scared as Ricky is about the long laundry list of things that are weird and wrong about this situation, the most unsettling thing is absolutely the fact that Chris is just hovering just inside the door, watching Ricky like a lion watches prey. Those bright red eyes are fixed on him and his mouth is hanging open, his posture curled just slightly. It’s fucking terrifying, and if he had to go, Ricky wouldn’t have been surprirsed if his bladder had emptied itself right then and there. 

Justin’s still hollering from behind the curtain, and Ricky can hear what he can only assume is his bed rattling with some sort of force. Knowing Justin, he’s probably thrashing around, testing the restraints. Ricky can’t fully form thoughts, but the one he can is that he desperately hopes Justin manages to get out of the bed. So far, though, he doesn’t seem to be having much luck.

Ricky blinks hard, his gaze focusing back on Chris. For a moment, he’s sure he’s hallucinating or something. The red eyes and alarming posture are gone. His eyes are brown again and he’s standing up to his full height, stepping towards Ricky like absolutely nothing’s wrong. 

“What the fuck… what’s happening?” Ricky demands frantically, and Chris shushes him gently, a hand outstretched towards Ricky’s face. Ricky flinches when Chris’ fingers touch his forehead, smoothing down a piece of hair. 

“I’m sorry it had to be this way, you know,” Chris says quietly, and Ricky grunts, straining against his restraints as hard as he can. Chris shakes his head, his lips curling into a smile that makes Ricky’s skin crawl. “This is never what I meant to happen. I just… you’re just so fucking delicious and I can’t resist any longer,” Chris says, and without even really meaning to, Ricky’s screaming suddenly, a bloodcurdling sound that shuts Justin up next door immediately. 

“What the fuck are you doing, huh, Chris? What the fuck is this?” Ricky demands, and Chris just shakes his head again, another small smile gracing his lips. 

“It’ll all make sense soon enough,” he says, and tears stream down Ricky’s face as he looks up at Chris, his best friend Chris, the dude he’d been in a fucking band with for ten years, the dude he’d been pretty sure he’d known better than anyone else in the world up until about ten minutes ago. Somehow, Ricky barely even recognizes him suddenly. 

“Chris, please…” Ricky whispers, shaking his head. “Whatever this is… you don’t have to do it.”

Chris laughs suddenly, the sound cold and chilling and nothing at all like the laugh Ricky would’ve recognized as Chris’. 

“Of course I have to do it!” Chris screams, the abrupt sound making Ricky whimper and push himself back further against the mattress. Ricky’s never heard Chris take that tone, never heard him sound so rageful. It’s almost demonic. Chris’ mouth hangs open like he wants to say something else, but he doesn’t. Instead, he pulls a key out of his pocket and unlocks one of the shackles on Ricky’s wrists. 

Before Ricky’s even really able to tell what’s happening, Chris is gone a second later, the door loudly slamming punctuating the thought. 

“Rick?! Rick!” Justin’s yelling again, but Ricky can’t muster up a response. 

Instead, he takes the key Chris left in the lock and unlocks the rest of his shackles, standing and moving stiffly to the curtain in the center of the room. Justin jumps when Ricky pulls it back, looking up with confusion evident on his face. 

“Are you okay? What the fuck happened?” Justin demands as Ricky looks him over, realizes he’s in the same state as he is; naked as the day he was born and attached securely to the bed. Ricky doesn’t say a word, just hopes the key is universal and it is; he unlocks Justin and perches on the edge of the bed while Justin stretches out his limbs and wrings his hands over his wrists where there are already bruises forming from the fight he’d been putting up against the restraints. 

“That’s… it’s not Chris,” Ricky whispers. “It is, but… it’s not.”

“What do you mean?” Justin asks, his voice gentle. Ricky ignores the hint of skepticism behind the words. Justin hadn’t seen him, so of course he’s not going to believe that what Ricky had just seen wasn’t the Chris that they knew, that it was… something else entirely. 

“His eyes were red. He… he was looking at me like an animal or something,” Ricky whispers, shaking his head. It sounds fucking insane when he says it out loud, and he’s fully expecting Justin to laugh or something, but he doesn’t. Instead, his hand appears on Ricky’s shoulder. The movement makes him jump, and it’s only then he realizes he’s shaking, sporadic tears still slipping down his cheeks. 

“Come here,” Justin whispers, and Ricky obliges at once. He launches himself into Justin’s chest and Justin holds him tightly, soothing him quietly. “It’s okay, I’ve got you. We’re going to get out of here. Shhh, it’s okay.”

~

“What is that?” Ricky asks a while later, raising two fingers to Justin’s neck just above his collarbone. Justin strains to see, but stops short and raises two fingers to Ricky’s neck instead.

“They look like… bite marks?” Justin questions quietly, confusion phasing over his face. 

“They look like fang marks,” Ricky says, realization hitting him like a truck. Chris’ red eyes, his posture… everything about this entire fucked situation… it made a certain amount of sense. “What if he’s a vampire?” Ricky asks, feeling stupid. Vampires aren’t real. Of course they’re not real. 

“A vampire?” Justin mirrors, and Ricky can hear the skepticism in his tone. “That’s…”

“That’s what, huh? Crazy? Because if you would’ve asked me twenty four hours ago, I would’ve told you that waking up in a strange house fucking shackled naked to a bed with bite marks on my neck was fucking crazy, wouldn’t you have?” Ricky demands, borderline frantic again. Justin sighs, closes his eyes for a few moments. 

“Okay. I mean yeah, you’ve got a point. This whole thing is fucking insane, and clearly there’s something going on that we don’t know, but come on, Rick, a vampire? Seriously?” Justin asks, his tone gentle. Ricky can tell he’s doing his best to sound as non-judgemental as he can, but there’s still a clear thread of ‘what the fuck are you talking about’ to his entire demeanor. 

“You didn’t see him, okay? You didn’t see his eyes, didn’t see how he… how he looked at me. It wasn’t Chris. It wasn’t the guy I’ve known for over ten years,” Ricky says quietly, tears welling up in his eyes again. In reality, deep down he knows it was Chris. Everything about the creature he’d seen before _was_ Chris, just… _different_. 

Then again, Chris had always been different. He’d always been private, tended to keep to himself on tour. When all the guys would go out for drinks, Chris would go back to the bus, claiming to sleep. Now, though, Ricky’s not sure. When he really thinks about it, there’s plenty of times Chris had been pretty much unaccounted for for most of a tour. What if… what if all those times he’d been… _feeding_ on people, maybe even _killing_ people?

“Rick, come on. You’ve got to chill out a little, dude. I know you’re scared, I’m scared too, but did it ever cross your mind that maybe Chris is just a fucking psychopath? I know he’s your friend, he’s my friend too, or at least I thought he was… but this doesn’t mean he’s some sort of fictional monster. He can just be a human monster, you know,” Justin says slowly, gently, and realistically Ricky knows he’s right. Maybe… maybe he’d just been imagining the eyes. Maybe he’d just been so scared his mind had conjured things that weren’t there to make it hurt less. That was possible, right? Sure it was. 

Before Ricky can think about it too much, the door on the other side of the room opens and both of their heads snap in that direction. Chris stands there looking remarkably normal, just Chris. 

“Get over here,” Chris says quietly, looking right at Ricky. Ricky’s limbs start shaking almost as if on command and he chances a glance at Justin, who’s no help at all because he’s also staring at Chris like he’s just seen a ghost. “ _Now!_ ” Chris booms, the yell feeling like it almost shakes the room. 

“It’s okay, just do what he says,” Justin whispers, and Ricky looks at him like he’s suddenly got three heads.

“What the fuck do you mean, ‘do what he says’?” he demands, and Justin focuses on him, his eyes wide and scared. 

“What choice do you have?”

“Ricky, get the fuck over here or I’m going to make you and I don’t think you want that,” Chris says, his voice calmer and quieter but still just as completely deadly sounding. Ricky stands on his wobbly legs, casting a final glance at Justin before taking steps towards Chris. 

Chris closes the gap between them in a second and Ricky can’t help but let out a small whimper. Chris reaches for him, closing a hand in a vice grip on his shoulder that definitely feels like the nails are drawing blood. 

“Get back in the bed,” Chris instructs, not giving Ricky any sort of choice. He forces him towards the bed and shoves him down, immediately setting to work at reattaching his shackles. Ricky tries to shake against Chris’ grip once, gets a look that’s almost enough to completely vaporize him on its own and stills, giving in. 

“Give me the key,” Chris says, and Ricky holds open the hand he’d been clutching it with. Chris snatches it and Ricky closes his eyes, wishing he had some sort of plan, something… anything. 

A moment later, Ricky watches as Chris finishes chaining him up and then takes the few steps to the curtain in the center of the room. He looks down at Ricky once and then pulls the curtain shut. Ricky hears quiet speaking that he can’t quite make out over the sound of the blood pounding in his ears and then there’s shuffling, maybe the sound of Chris reattaching Justin to his bed too?

The room goes deadly silent for a moment and then Ricky just about jumps out of his skin when Justin starts screaming a second later. It’s frantic and painful and tears rise to Ricky’s eyes for the millionth time since this whole fucking thing started. He’s never heard Justin scream at all other than musically, but this is… this is quite possibly the most painful thing he’s ever heard. He’d cover his ears if he could, desperately wishes he could. 

Finally, minutes later, the screaming stops. The room stills and Ricky listens hard for any sign of life, any sign of anything. The silence in the air is thick, tangible almost, and Ricky’s ears ring as tears stream down his cheeks. 

Suddenly, Chris appears at the edge of the curtain and Ricky squints to see him properly. Even though his eyes have mostly adjusted to the low light and he can definitely see much better than he could when he first woke up, he still can’t quite make out Chris’ features until he steps closer and more into the light. When he does come into focus, Ricky gasps. 

Chris is absolutely covered in blood. His clothes, his face, his arms, everything. Every inch of him is covered in it, and he’s looking at Ricky like whatever fate had just befallen Justin was coming for him next. 

“Chris, please…” Ricky whines, shaking his head. “Please.”

“Please what?” Chris demands, and Ricky blinks blearily, a thick gulp in his throat. 

“Please don’t hurt me.”

“Hurt you? I’m not going to hurt you. I’d never hurt you… you know you’ve always been special,” Chris says, stepping close enough that Ricky can really see him now, can really take in the absolutely crazed look on his face. His eyes aren’t like they’d been before, aren’t red, but they aren’t Chris’ either. They’re wide, wild… he looks like a cornered dog or something, just on the verge of attack. 

“Please…” Ricky trails off, not really able to form the thoughts to say anything else. Chris smiles then, revealing blood staining his teeth. 

“Oh come on, Rick, don’t you want me? You’ve always wanted me before,” Chris coaxes, stepping closer still to Ricky. Ricky presses his slim frame backwards into the mattress as much as he can, wishing he’d just fucking disappear into it. 

Chris reaches the edge of the bed, trailing a finger up Ricky’s bare leg. Ricky shivers, knowing damn well that normally the touch _would_ make him want Chris. That’s almost the worst part of all of this - he’d trusted Chris so much. He’d… there’d been times where he’d thought he’d been in fucking love with Chris, and all the while he’d had no idea, no idea that he was… whatever he was. 

“Please, Rick? I get so turned on when I’m full,” Chris whines, and Ricky’s breathing so heavily that he's pretty sure his heart’s about to burst right out of his chest. 

“Don’t…” Ricky manages, panic gripping him. Chris’ finger keeps trailing up his leg, reaches his hipbone and traces the angle of it. Ricky feels himself involuntarily getting half-hard at the touch and curses himself for it. Chris glances at his dick, an eyebrow raising. 

“At least _someone_ wants me,” he whispers, and Ricky shakes his head. 

“No.”

Chris is getting closer still, leaning forward so that his face is right above Ricky’s. Ricky can see each individual spatters of blood on Chris’ face and feels like he may well actually be about to pass out he’s so fucking afraid. 

“Justin…” Ricky mumbles hoarsely, closing his eyes and turning his head away from Chris as best he can. 

“Justin can’t help you. Justin couldn’t ever help you,” Chris tells him, and there’s a sudden noise that punctuates his sentence, startling Ricky into opening his eyes. 

“You sure about that?” Justin’s voice asks, and suddenly Chris is being dragged backwards. Justin’s form is blurry in Ricky’s terror, but he can tell he’s also covered in blood, walking like he’s in a substantial amount of pain. Somehow, though, he’s able to catch Chris off guard and drag him across the room, slamming his head into the wall with a sickening thud. 

Chris’ form slides to the floor and Justin turns back on Ricky, and Ricky’s never been happier to see anyone in his entire life. 

“Did he hurt you?” Justin asks, and Ricky shakes his head. 

“Not yet. Are you… okay?” Ricky asks, and Justin nods. 

“I think so. It looks worse than it is,” he says, staggering across the room and sitting heavily on the edge of Ricky’s bed. Ricky watches him, trying his best to give him a moment to rest if that’s what he needs but also knowing full well that they probably only have a certain amount of time before Chris is up and coming back at them. 

“I’m sorry about this,” Justin says suddenly, his eyes snapping up to Ricky’s. Ricky just looks at him dumbfounded, his brain feeling like it’s incapable of computing whatever the fuck he’s talking about. “I just wanted to feed on you. It was supposed to be easy. He’s the one that had to fucking play around.”

The statement hangs thick in the air and Ricky’s breathing kicks up to an absolutely unnatural volume and speed again.

“W-what?” Ricky mumbles, sure he’s heard him wrong somehow. 

“And then of course while he’s playing his fucking game, he sees your stupid sad face and gives you the fucking key and almost ruins the whole fucking thing?” Justin rants, and Ricky’s mumbling, trying desperately to get words out that just won’t come. 

“We’re fucking hungry, haven’t eaten in weeks, and he’s going to fuck with me like this, thinks he’s fucking funny? Well, I don’t think it’s funny and now the fucking joke’s on him - I’m not sharing,” Justin says, shaking his head.

“What the fuck is going on?” Ricky pleads, pretty sure he knows the answer - it’s not like Justin’s exactly being subtle. 

Justin had been looking at Chris’ unmoving form on the floor and now he looks back up at Ricky and somehow Ricky’s still surprised when Justin’s dark eyes aren’t brown anymore but a deep shade of crimson. 

“Please…” Ricky trails off, and Justin shakes his head.

“Fuck your please. I’m fucking hungry.”

Justin lunges at him and Ricky lets out a scream that mostly gets caught in his throat. Justin’s biting into his neck and Ricky can feel himself getting lightheaded, pain surging through him. He feels himself letting go, feels himself fading away…

~

“You fucking idiot, I told you your stupid game wouldn’t work. Next time maybe you’ll just fucking listen to me.”

“I just wanted to have some fun. Don’t be such a prick.”

Ricky’s eyes slip open at the sounds of voices and for a moment, he’s happy to see Chris and Justin standing over him. For a moment, his head is clear; no fear, nothing but the faces of two of his best friends. 

Eventually, though, it all floods back and absolute terror grips him. He’s not in the dark room anymore. There’s no curtain to his left, it’s not dark outside. Instead, he seems to be in a perfectly normal-looking hotel room. There’s sunlight streaming in a nearby window that hurts his eyes when he focuses on it. He’s not shackled to the bed, he’s not naked, and a hand stretched up to his neck warrants no finding of wounds where he’s positive Justin had bitten him.

“What the fuck is going on?” he demands, and both Chris and Justin look at him innocently. 

“You were having a nightmare or something. Chris and I could hear you all the way from the room next door,” Justin says, shrugging. 

“We just came to make sure you were okay,” Chris adds, and Ricky huffs quietly, jolting upright in the bed and shaking his head. 

“You… both of you… I… what the fuck happened?” Ricky demands, frantic. “You two were… both of you had red eyes and both of you… you were… you’re vampires or fucking something. Justin, you… you were talking about being hungry. You were mad at Chris, said he couldn’t have any, slammed his head into the wall, and you… you fed on me, I guess?” he rambles, looking back and forth at them over and over. He stands, paces in a circle, looks out the window, and then heavily sits back down on the corner of the bed, not sure what else to do.

“What the fuck did you drink last night, dude?” Chris asks, a smirk on his face. He’s not the Chris Ricky remembers from before. His normal Chris again, Ricky’s Chris, gentle sweet Chris, and it’s freaking Ricky the fuck out. 

“I… I didn’t drink anything.”

“Sure, dude. Get your shit packed. We’ve gotta be on the bus in an hour,” Chris says, shrugging and heading for the door of the room. He steps out into the hallway and Ricky’s eyes snap up to Justin where he’s still standing nearby. 

Justin doesn’t say anything for a while, just looks at Ricky with a completely unreadable expression on his face before taking a few steps towards him. Instinctively, Ricky flinches away from him as he leans down towards him. Once his face is just inches away from Ricky’s, Justin offers up a wide smile that reveals two sharp fangs on either side of his mouth. Ricky gasps, leaning backwards so far that he almost falls off the bed. In a split second, the fangs retract into Justin’s gums, leaving behind only a perfectly normal sweet smile. 

“No one will ever believe you,” Justin says, closing his mouth completely and standing to his full height, moving to follow Chris out of the room. “You’re fucking delicious, by the way. I can’t wait to have seconds,” he says, winking and laughing loudly as he steps into the hallway.

**Author's Note:**

> wheresyoursavior.tumblr.com


End file.
